A Single Man
by TeamGwenee
Summary: Regency AU. Lady Edith Crawley is expected to remain a spinster her entire life. But when the wealthy and charming Lord Hexham pays a visit, she may yet find a way to escape from her tedious destiny. Bedith
1. Chapter 1

Lady Edith Crawley, second daughter of the Earl of Grantham, couldn't believe her luck. Three new gowns! Mama had inspected their wardrobes and although both Mary and Sybil needed a new thing or two; a bonnet or a spencer, Mama had decided that none of Edith's evening dresses were suitable. Her green and gold silk was out of style, her orange was too childish and her white muslin sprigged with flowers had a slight tear in it. The muslin could be fixed, but it still wasn't formal enough.

And so, on the fine Spring morning when the Ladies set off for Ripon, Edith was for once the only person who was not feeling discontent. Mary resented having to walk and the fact Edith was getting more new things than herself, and Sybil had been hoping to go for a ride in the carriage (with Branson, the coachmen) instead of being stuck in a dress shop, being fitted for her new pelisse.

"I don't see why we couldn't have the dressmaker come to us," Mary sneered, too grand to actually consider visiting a shop for herself.

Cora sighed. She had been planning for this visit for months. Bedrooms had to be made up, menus arranged and entertainments planned. "The walk will do us good," she answered simply. In truth, Cora was relieved to be out of the house and getting some fresh air.

"And I don't understand why Edith is getting the new gowns. Not when the reason for the visit is to make a match between myself and Cousin Matthew," Mary added candidly.

This was true. Ever since the death of the previous heir, Cousin Patrick, Mary had been obliged to allow herself to be courted by Cousin Matthew, regardless of the fact they had both taken an instant disliking of each other. However, Cousin Matthew had been away for some time. He had had been studying Law at Cambridge before departing for France for a few months. He was returning to Downton with a large party of friends and Mary's family had hoped that the two of them would find each other more sufferable on re-acquaintance.

"You had a new gown two weeks ago," Cora pointed out, "And the rest of your clothes are entirely suitable. Edith doesn't have a thing fit to be seen in. Besides," she added, "Cousin Matthew is bringing a party of Cambridge friends with him, many of whom would be entirely suitable for Edith,

"Two engagements in one visit," Sybil laughed, "Very economical,"

Mary leant to speak in Sybil's ear, "It would be if it were you, Darling, but new gowns for Edith would be nothing but a waste of money. Edith is lucky Papa can afford the added expense. Otherwise he would have to be practical and spend the money only on someone who it is worth dressing!"

Edith would have dearly loved to give Mary a cutting retort, but she could not think of one. No doubt she would wake up in the middle of the night with a genius response, only to be too late.

She was saved from having to say something when they reached the Milliner's. Sybil and Mary went to inspect bonnets whilst Cora and Edith were shown different fabrics and trimmings. To Edith's pleasure, Cora avoided the usual pastel shades that she preferred and instead focussed on the richer colours that were more to Edith's liking. Finally, a deep blue satin, a bright rose pink cotton and pale gold silk were settled on.

They then departed to the Dressmaker's for the gowns to be fitted. Madame Swann advised them on trimmings and cuts before obsequiously bowing them out the door, assuring them the gowns would be ready in a week.

Upon reaching Downton, Cora was received with distressing news. Having dispensed with her spencer and bonnet and settled into the Drawing room, she opened a letter and gave a slight gasp of despair.

"What is the matter Mama?" Mary asked absentmindedly, picking at her embroidery without interest.

"Oh, Cousin Matthew has written, asking if he could bring another guest. He has just lost his Cousin and is feeling rather dispirited," Cora read on, "I suppose we shall have to receive him,"

"I don't see why," Mary sneered, "How awfully presumptuous. Just tell Cousin Matthew he may not come,"

"He is a Marquess with a great fortune and a large estate in Northumberland," Cora added.

Mary paused.

"Well I suppose we shall have to receive him,"

DA

The bedrooms had been made up, clothes delivered and the guests would soon be arriving. Along with Cousin Matthew and Cousin Isobel, notable guests included The Honourable Evelyn Napier, Lord Gillingham and his fiance the Honourable Mabel Lane Fox, her friend Miss Lavinia Swire, Mr Charles Blake esquire (heir to but not son of a wealthy Baronet) and of course, the Right Honourable Herbert (Bertie) Pelham, Marquess of Hexham.

"I daresay," Violet mused a she watched the carriages arrive, "We certainly have our choice of Gentlemen for the girls,"

Robert smiled. "If our hopes for Cousin Matthew and Mary do not play out, then a Marquess would certainly be a respectable consolation,"

Mary scanned the carriages, wondering which one held the Marquess. She had decided to permit Lord Hexham to court her seriously. His ascension to the title had made up for his rather low birth and his wealth exceeded that even of her father's. Furthermore, by all accounts he had grown up at Brancaster as his Cousin's playmate, and so managed to acquire some truly decent manners. Unlike Cousin Matthew who had spent his childhood as the son of a middle class Doctor. And so, Lord Hexham was a far superior match than Cousin Matthew.

'I will give Matthew to Sybil,' Mary thought, 'Downton may remain in the family. Of course Edith may certainly not be permitted to marry him. She is most decidedly not Countess material,'

She peered curiously at each guest as they disembarked. The ladies were both dressed with extreme fashion and elegance, although Miss Lane Fox rather more flamboyantly than Miss Swire.

Lord Hexham, Mary found to her dismay, lacked the dashing good looks she had hoped for. That said, he was not ill favoured. He had a very honest, open face. His eyes were kind and he had a most genial smile. Indeed, Lord Hexham's entire manner was most amiable. His clothes were of a good fabric and a fine cut, telling of his high rank and fortune. However, he had a diffidence about him that made Mary think he would be very easy to control. Indeed, Mary thought him a very suitable match indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

The guests spent the afternoon unpacking and recovering from their journey. Cora had decided for the first dinner to be an informal one. And so Edith had asked Anna to prepare her rose pink dress for dinner that night, saving her grander blue satin and gold silk for later. She had been looking forward to the visit. There was no one at Downton to really talk to except for Sybil and Mary, and they tended to prefer each other's company. Edith had received a letter from Aunt Rosamund, inviting her to stay with her in London, which she was inclined to accept. However, such a stay would have to wait until after the guests had left.

However, despite having anticipated the thought of new company for weeks, Edith felt a sudden stirring nerves. She was so poor at social occasions. She lacked Mary's wit and Sybil's charm, and at best remained a wallflower whenever guests were welcomed. Should she attract anyone's attention, it would be undoubtedly for a negative reason. Whether it be due to her plainness, or her attempts to copy Mary's cutting wit; which always ended up sounding less witty and more bitter. In fact, Cora had advised her once that such spitefulness did not suit her. It suited Mary of course. But then, anything suits beautiful people.

The more Edith thought about it, the more it became apparent that this evening; this entire trip, would be spent watching the guests be enchanted by Sybil or fawn over Mary, like every other time they had guests. She didn't think that she could handle that, and considered claiming illness to avoid the company.

Feeling rather hot, Edith resolved to go on a walk to fill the time between now and dinner. She was the only member of the family who enjoyed walks, rather sadly as Downton was perfectly situated for numerous long walks. Indeed, walking was one of Edith's greatest pleasures. Should her mind be feeling active, she would spend the time daydreaming, thinking up poems and stories in her head which she would then scribble down on her return. Or she would take the opportunity to calm down after another quarrel with Mary, which Mary would certainly almost always win. Other times Edith would just dawdle along, humming lightly and taking in the sights.

The initial hustle and bustle that had arrived with guests had ceased by the time Edith donned her shawl and bonnet in the entrance hall. The staff were either in the dining room or downstairs, and the guests were settling into their chambers. Knowing she wouldn't be missed, Edith strolled out into the cool, early evening and set off for one of her favourite paths.

She had been strolling along for half an hour when the heavens had deemed it prudent to open and the rain came thundering down. In her light afternoon dress and shawl, she was quickly drenched. She pursed her lips at her misfortune and went to turn back, only to hear a cry of "Damn!" in the distance. Edith followed the sound of the voice and stumbled down the path. Her boots and the hem of her dress became covered in mud and her vision was blurred from the rain. Cutting through the trees she discovered the source of the voice. Before her stood Lord Hexham, peering through the rain.

"Lord Hexham!" she called, bobbing a swift curtsey. She self-consciously wrapped her sodden shawl around her thin dress.

He raised a hand in recognition. "Lady Edith, I see we have both been caught out in the rain," he replied over the sound of the water hitting the ground.

"But you have clearly been more sensible in your choice of attire," said Edith, moving to join him and taking in his cloak, "As you see, I am clothed quite unsuitably for the rain,"

As Lord Hexham fell in step beside her as they made the journey back, he shot her an affable smile. They both walked slightly bent backed as to keep the rain from their faces. Edith saw the length of his stride and sought to keep up. Taking note of this, Lord Hexham slowed considerably.

"I saw it was to rain and dressed accordingly," he explained.

"Then you show greater foresight than I,"

"Not much," Lord Hexham acquiesced, "I am afraid that I flattered myself and thought I would be capable of making my own way back without a guide. It was a folly,"

"The difficulty has grown greater, no doubt, due to the weather,"

Lord Hexham stopped abruptly. "Lady Edith I am afraid you must excuse my lack of courtesy. Please allow me to offer you the use of my cloak. I have a coat underneath and your own clothes are..." he trailed of, his eyes briefly flickered to her frock, which was clinging to her shaking figure, "Please use my cloak,"

Edith made little protest once she saw the sturdy coat Lord Hexham wore underneath. "I thank you Lord Hexham, for your kindness," she said, wrapping the heavy fabric around herself, immediately finding comfort from the warmth. She shot him a swift, grateful smile. Her eyes caught his, and she took note of the kind and gentle look in them.

"And I must thank you, for without you I fear I would have been quite lost. I now feel quite safe with you as an escort," Lord Hexham replied, "I see that you are quite assured of yourself and your direction,"

"I most certainly am, this is one of my favourite paths and I have taken it many a times. Do you like it?"

"Very much so," Lord Hexham said enthusiastically, "It is one of the most charming walks I have seen. I only hope to be able to enjoy it again, to greater satisfaction once the weather is more favourable,"

"I would have presumed you would have wished to recover from such an arduous journey," Edith admitted.

"I had been cooped inside that carriage for so long I simply had to stretch my legs. So after unpacking I said to myself weather be hanged, I am going for a walk! I rather suppose the weather did not take kindly to being told to hang itself and so has punished me in return,"

Edith's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Do you suppose the weather takes great heed in what you say. Farmers have prayed for rain and sailors for soft seas without avail, and yet at your word it decides to downpour! A most powerful gift,"

Lord Hexham chuckled. "It would be," he agreed, "If it weren't for the fact the weather seems determined to do the exact opposite of what I wish, as opposed to what I command,"

"Well then, you must simply wish for want you do not want to happen," she said. "Do you enjoy walking?" she asked curiously.

"It is one of my greatest pleasures,"

"I suppose Brancaster Castle has a great many walks,"

"Oh yes, indeed! There is a most pleasant one by the lake, and another in the hills where we go shooting. The shooting is excellent there,"

They finally reached the house, and were greeted by the rather flabbergasted Mr Carson, who was shocked to see Lord Hexham and Lady Edith standing in the doorway, both bearing a startling resemblance to a drowned rat. Edith returned the cloak to Lord Hexham, thanking him effusively for his generosity.

She then quickly made her way to her bedroom. On the landing she encountered Cora, who took in Edith's bedraggled appearance with shock.

"Edith!", she cried, "what on Earth has happened to you? Where have you been,"

"I went on a walk Mama," Edith replied meekly, feeling herself shrink under her mother's shocked gaze.

"You don't mean to say that you went out in this weather?" Cora demanded.

"Well, no. It went out in quite different weather. I decided to walk in the sun, it's just the weather decided to rain. So you see, I am not at fault," Edith considered telling Cora about meeting Lord Hexham, but instead felt it prudent to hold her tongue.

Cora raised an eyebrow and chivvied Edith to her bedroom. "Well hurry along and take those things off before you catch your death of cold. Warm yourself by the fire and wait until Anna arrives to dress you. Dinner is in an hour,"

Edith obediently did as she was bid. She rid herself of her drenched clothes and dirtied petticoats, before pulling on a nightgown and robe and sitting by the fire. She shook her hair loose and slowly brushed it out, giving it the chance to dry. She smiled slightly to herself as she thought of Lord Hexham. She had found him so very easy to talk to. So pleasant and friendly. For such a grand man there had been no false pride about him. No pomposity or snobbery. Indeed, he had spoken so charmingly to her. Polite, but with no hidden meaning or agenda. Nothing but the most genuine and sincere kindness. She hoped that she would have a chance to talk to him at dinner.

Not for the first time, Edith was extremely grateful for her three new gowns.

DA

To Edith's dismay, she was not seated next to Lord Hexham. Mary had gained that right, with Cousin Matthew on the other side. Edith had personally thought that she was looking uncommonly well tonight. Her pink dress suited her very well, and Anna had arranged her hair most charmingly, with matching silk flowers sewn in. But having predicted that Edith and Sybil (gowned in a light blue muslin) would be dressing quite simply that evening, Mary had decided it advisable to don her fine red silk. Around her neck she wore a smart black choker and her hair was done up intricately with feathers. A pointed train trailed behind her as she swept into the room.

If Edith had attempted such a feat, she knew that she would look overdressed and have made a fool of herself. Maddeningly, Mary looked like a queen condescending to dine with the lowly peasants. Edith felt rather faded in comparison. If she had worn blue, like Sybil, then she may have made a nice contrast. Instead, she simply seemed to be a duller shadow of Mary and so once again faded into the background.

Mr Napier seemed content with paying Edith only the barest courtesies, preferring instead to feast his eyes on Mary. Mr Blake was engaging enough, discussing farming techniques with her, but she saw him occasionally slide his eyes over to Mary's direction. Edith's heart went out to Miss Lane Fox as Lord Gillingham seemed to be following suit, although she could not quite understand why when he had a divine creature such as Mabel Lane Fox sitting at his elbow.

Mary meanwhile was focussing all her charms on Lord Hexham. She enquired after his family's health (mostly well, although his mother had been feeling rather fagged lately), expressed her most sincere regret for the death of his Cousin (it was so very sad) and displayed delighted interest in Lord Hexham's favourite occupations ("I too enjoy walking. And there is nothing I love more than the theatre").

In return, Lord Hexham seemed equally engaged. Edith tried to console herself by thinking that a man as well bred and with as good manners as Lord Hexham could not fail to be an attentive conversation partner. However, to do so Edith found that she had to squint whenever she looked at them, in order to block out Mary's beauty.

The only Gentleman in the room not focussing entirely on Mary was Cousin Matthew, who was pointedly talking to Miss Lavinia Swire.

After dinner, the Ladies absconded to the Drawing room. Edith, Sybil, Miss Swire and Miss Lane Fox began a game at Bridge whilst Mary and Cora huddled in the corner, in order to discuss Mary's progress with Lord Hexham and Cousin Matthew. Excusing herself from the game, Edith wandered towards her mother and sister and seated herself within earshot of them on the sofa. She was anxious to hear what had happened between Mary and Lord Hexham, and what they thought of him. Although Edith saw that it would be to her favour if Mary was unimpressed, for some reason the thought of them thinking of Lord Hexham with anything but the greatest admiration was not to be born.

Mary was avoiding her Mama's questions on Cousin Matthew, and instead decided to direct the conversation entirely to the matter of Lord Hexham.

"I find him most amiable," Mary said, "Although dreadfully dull,"

Edith knew this not to be true. Mary just thought that anyone with different interests to herself to be boring and their opinions inconsequential. Edith had found Lord Hexham's conversation to be very pleasant and lively.

"Has he expressed an interest?" Cora asked eagerly.

"He will," Mary said confidently, "He tells me he likes music,"

"Perhaps I should have you should sing for us. Edith," Cora called, Edith immediately pretended to be absorbed in her gloves, "When the Gentlemen come through I would like you to accompany Mary on the pianoforte,"

Edith submitted to her mother's will, and at the arrival of her Papa and Cousin Matthew and Lord Hexham and the other men, she placed herself on the piano stool. Mary stood proudly beside her. She placed one gloved hand on the pianoforte and leaned against it slightly in a graceful pose. In her other hand she elegantly held her fan, swinging it slightly. Against the low candlelight and in her silk red gown, Mary really did look enchanting.

The audience sat in contented silence, listening with pleasure as Mary sang one of her favourite ballads, Edith dutifully accompanying her. As the song drew to a close, polite applause broke out and Mary smiled graciously in thanks.

"That was most delightful. You are extremely talented Lady Mary," Mr Napier said.

"A true Nightingale," added Lord Gillingham.

"You have a most accomplished daughter Lady Grantham," Mr Blake noted.

"Would you play for us again Lady Edith?" Lord Hexham asked. He moved towards the pianoforte and smiled down at Edith warmly, "You play so beautifully,"

Edith blushed in pleasure and did as she was bid. In a cunning move, she chose not to play a song that could be sung along to, but instead opted to play "Rondo alla Turca". Lord Hexham remained by her side, watching attentively as her fingers effortlessly danced along the keys, the notes bouncing off each one and into the company's ears flawlessly. Edith's performance was met with enthusiastic applause, none more enthusiastic than Lord Hexham's.

Edith was then ordered to play another song. One with lyrics so that Mary may return to her rightful place at the centre of attention. But still Lord Hexham did not leave, instead standing firmly by Edith's side, watching her hands. However, he had his back to the rest of the room and so no one saw the direction his eyes were looking in. Only Edith, who felt them follow her every movement.

"I say," Robert murmured into Cora's ear, "Lord Hexham is being extremely forward. He has not taken his eyes off Mary once!"


	3. Chapter 3

The following morning, Edith found herself taking greater care than usual on her toilette. She asked Anna to arrange her hair in a more becoming style and took great pains on choosing her morning dress. That said, she thought herself looking rather well. Her skin was clear and her eyes had somewhat of a sparkle about them. Upon reaching the breakfast table she found Lord Hexham seated between Mary and Papa, and so sat herself between Cousin Matthew and Sybil, who both smiled at her and wished her a pleasant morning.

It was during breakfast that Lord Hexham requested a tour of the grounds, noting the beauty of the gardens and his eagerness to properly explore them. At this Lord Grantham suggested Mary be his guide. Mary, having realised that in order to fully catch Lord Hexham's attention she must deprive him of her own, refused. Perhaps too quickly, Edith offered her assistance. And though Robert smiled pityingly and Mary rolled her eyes, Edith did not care. For Lord Hexham's acceptance was just as eager as Edith's offer.

After breakfast was cleared, Edith dressed for the outing. Sybil joined them for propriety's sake, but she dawdled along behind the two. Edith could not help a large smile spreading over her face at finding herself in his company. After some polite exchanges about the weather, during which both of them sneaked sheepish smiles at the other when the other was not looking, Sybil rushed forward to beg their leave. She had just remembered that she had urgent matters to attend to at the stables.

And so the two were left quite alone. Edith smiled as they reached the spring that ran through the grounds and Lord Hexham charmingly offered her his hand to help her cross the bridge. They strolled along companionably, taking in the fresh morning air. The pair passed the forest and entered the orchard, whereupon Edith reached out and placed her gloved hand upon the base of a rather fine apple trees. The old branches were bent out in many directions and weighed down from years of bearing heavy fruit. Edith flashed Lord Hexham a rueful grin.

"I have always wanted to climb this tree. Sybil did, as did Mary. But I was always too timid. And I was frightened of what Mama or Papa would say,"

Lord Hexham quickly checked over shoulders, before turning back to give Edith a conspirital wink.

"Well, no one is here now. And I see no need of informing Lord and Lady Grantham of any illegal tree climbing if you do not,"

Edith blushed and peeked up at Lord Hexham from under her bonnet.

"Well, if you insist my Lord," she said.

For some unknown reason, Edith rather felt that climbing the tree would impress Lord Hexham. And for a slightly more well known reason, this was a very appealing prospect. And so, Edith gathered her skirts in one hand and walked to the other side of the tree. In doing so, Lord Hexham would only see her from between the branches and in the event of a wardrobe mishap, her modesty would be preserved.

Lord Hexham watched through the leaves as Edith heaved herself up onto one of the lower branches and clung onto the one above her. Slowly she made her way upward, using the same route her sisters used when they were young. Although she had never climbed the tree before, she had thought about doing so many a times and so was quite efficient in reaching the top. However, as she did so she placed her foot on a weaker branch and felt herself slipping down. The branches whipped against her cheeks and she landed awkwardly on her right foot.

Lord Hexham hurried over and saw to his concern Edith leaning against the tree, seemingly unable to stand without assistance. On trying to take a step she gasped with pain and collapsed to the ground.

"Lady Edith, are you quite alright?" he inquired anxiously, "That was quite a tumble," 

Edith grimaced in pain. "Do not concern yourself. I merely jarred my foot somewhat. I am sure it will soon be quite well,"

However, it quickly transpired that her foot was quite badly damaged. And so Lord Hexham insisted on assisting Edith back to the house. Edith leaned on his arm and hobbled along, the pain in her foot only growing greater as more she walked, until eventually tears began to well in her eyes. At this, Lord Hexham swept her into his arms and carried her the rest of the distance.

"I cannot thank you enough, Lord Hexham," Edith said after a while, "I am sure it is nothing but your help is most appreciated. I am afraid that my greatest wound is to my pride, as I am most mortified at having fallen from the tree on my very first attempt at climbing it,"

"No doubt climbing trees is like riding a horse," Lord Hexham assured her, "You must fall off at least seven times before you may call yourself a true proficient," Edith smiled wanly as Lord Hexham continued, "Indeed, when Peter and I first began to learn to ride, we would purposefully throw ourselves off our horses in order to reach the minimum required falls. However, in hindsight I see that we were in most probability cheating as we were throwing ourselves onto a haystack while the horses were standing still. My mother made a great to do over the state of my clothes,"

Lord Hexham rambled on in this manner until they reached the house in order to take Edith's mind off the throbbing pain in her ankle. Upon reaching the house he gently lowered her to the ground and waited until she had brushed out her skirts in order to appear more respectable, before knocking on the door. They were greeted by Mr Carson, who seemed rather abashed at Edith dishevelled appearance.

On being told of Edith's injury, Mr Carson and Lord Hexham both assisted her to a chair so that she may rest, and Lady Grantham was called for. Due to their slow departure back to the house, they were slightly late for lunch and there had been a slight concern as to their whereabouts. Lord Hexham was sent to join the others for lunch, having been thanked effusively by Cora for his assistance, whilst Cora sat with her daughter until the Doctor had arrived. He suggested Edith rest her foot for a day or two, before being encouraged to put weight on it again.

And so Edith was escorted to her bedroom and assisted into her nightgown, before being tucked into bed. She found herself unable to read one of her novels or write anything due to the persistent pain in her foot. With very little to do, she sought to distract herself from the dull throb by remembering how she felt when Lord Hexham held her close to his chest. She thought of how tender his hold had been and the safety she had felt from having his arms wrapped protectively around her.

This turned out to be a rather effective pain relief method.


	4. Chapter 4

Edith had been confined to her bed for the next two days, much to her dismay. The ladies of the house and her Papa paid their calls, although it would have been quite unseemly for Lord Hexham to enter her bedroom. Even so, Edith inquired after him during every visit, under the guise of asking after all the guests of course. Much to her delight, she found that Lord Hexham too regularly asked after her, and seemed eager for news of her health. It was quite maddening to be so close to the man though, and yet be utterly unable to see him.

With very little to occupy herself with, Edith found herself sleeping quite a lot. She had just been slowly awaking from her afternoon nap, when she heard her door creak open. Her eyes still heavy from sleep, she shut them again in the hopes that her visitor would leave her be.

Through lidded eyes Edith saw her Mama and Papa enter. In Papa's hands was a velvet jewellery case. Cora peeped at Edith and noted that she was seemingly still asleep. In a whisper, Cora lay a hand on her husband's arm and told him to leave Edith for now and give her a chance to rest.

"Shall I leave this here for her or give it to her later?" Robert asked his wife.

"Give it to her after dinner," Cora instructed softly, "I must say, it was rather good of Lord Hexham to give Edith such a gift," 

Edith felt her body stiffen from under her sheets. Although she longed to sit up and demand her gift, she chose to stay still in the hopes of hearing more about the gift Lord Hexham had apparently sent her. Now fully awake and eyes wide open in her pillow, Edith's heart thudded in her chest.

"I must admit," Robert mused, "That I would never have thought Lord Hexham the type to play such games. He has such an appearance of honesty and goodness, and yet his behaviour towards Edith is quite surprising,"

Edith frowned into her pillow. Whatever did her Papa mean?

Cora nodded in agreement, "I suppose he is more suited towards Mary than we initially thought. He certainly knows her game,"

"Do you really think there is an attraction?" Robert asked.

"Mary seems to think so, but personally I won't be sure until there is a ring on her finger," Cora sighed sadly, "I only hope Edith isn't too disappointed when the time comes,"

Robert chuckled lightly, "Oh, I'm sure Edith knows it's just a game. Let her enjoy herself and make Mary jealous for once. Goodness knows, this will be her only opportunity to do so,"

Cora smiled and headed towards the door, "On seconds thoughts darling, leave the present on Edith's bedside. It will be a nice surprise for her when she wakes up,"

And with that, Lord and Lady Grantham quietly departed from the room, leaving Edith to silently mull over what she had just heard. Once the door had shut she spring forward and grabbed the jewellery case. Inside was a _glorious_ rope of pearls. They were long enough to be wrapped around her waist repeatedly and the sheen on them was magnificent. Edith could not quite hold back a gasp as she absorbed their beauty.

And yet she found herself quite unable to enjoy them. Her Mama and Papa's words insisted on rooting themselves in her head. She tried not to dwell on them. She knew that neither parents would believe any man would express an interest in her when Mary and Sybil were as of yet unwed, and even after they had married. And Edith herself had thought so. She could no longer count on both hands how many gentlemen were expressing an interest in her, only for it to be revealed they were hoping to use her to make acquaintance to one or both her sisters. In the eyes of many, when she was not a weed to be plucked from the glorious garden of her family, she was a bridge to be crossed in order to gain access to her sister's lush pastures.

But she refused to let herself think that about Lord Hexham. For one, he had always been most cordial towards Mary. He never pointedly ignored her or avoid her in favour of Edith. He simply sought Edith out. And secondly, Edith didn't want to believe it. For some reason, the thought of Lord Hexham using her hurt more than she could bear. And so she simply chose not to believe it. Her parents had simply misunderstood, being so caught up in Mary's prospects, and Lord Hexham's interest in her was entirely genuine. She was certain.

Mostly. As bored as she was, her mind had begun to fill with gruesome images of Lord Hexham fawning over Mary and laughing at he behind her back. She quickly dislodged such thoughts from her mind. They were ludicrous. Simply ludicrous. Still, Edith was struck with a renewed urge to quit her bed and join the company and to reassure herself that such thoughts were in fact ludicrous.

And so it was with great pleasure that Edith received the news that she would be permitted to leave her bed and even sit up for the ball that was being held the next night. This was on the condition that she did not strain herself and she sat out of the dances so as to not further injure her foot. And so Edith sat herself before her vanity and anxiously examined her appearance. This would be the first time in a while Lord Hexham would see her and she was eager to impress.

The days in her room had left her complexion rather pale, dangerously close to shallow. She pinched her cheeks in the hope of bringing some colour into them and even considered applying rouge to her lips. Edith asked Anna to do her hair in braids, expertly weaving in Lord Hexham's pearls which went very becomingly with her gold silk gown. The gold gown had been her favourite, embroidered with intricate beads and edged with dainty gold lace. It was cut well to emphasise her figure, which had surprisingly grown to be the most developed of all her sisters. And as she thought of seeing Lord Hexham again, Edith noticed that her eyes had regained their sparkle and her skin seemed to glow once more.

It was with some surprise that her mother regarded her on entering Edith's bedroom. For that night, Edith was close to looking very pretty indeed. In fact, she was edging towards being considered beautiful. She certainly looked rather striking and elegant.

"You look lovely Edith dear," Cora noted, herself a vision in blue-grey silk and lace. The handsome dark good looks which she had passed down to her eldest and youngest daughters still prevalent despite her years. "Those pearls become you, you must make sure to thank Lord Hexham for them when you see him,"

'And make sure to do so in front of Mary, no doubt,' Edith thought wryly.


	5. Chapter 5

Edith thanked Lord Hexham as soon she could. Lord Hexham quietly informed her (out of anyone else's earshot) that he felt it was his duty to have done something for her. After all, it was he who had encouraged her to climb the tree. And therefore, at least some of the blame for her resulting injury must lay on his shoulders. Edith laughed and reassured him that she bore him no blame. Indeed she did not even blame herself.

"I rest all blame entirely," she announced gravely, "on the tree,"

Lord Hexham chuckled in reply. "And of course the tree cannot defend itself. Very beneficial. One cannot wish for more from a scapegoat,"

Despite having agreed that the entire affair was the tree's fault, Lord Hexham remained dutifully by Edith's side when possible. There were enough eligible gentlemen at the ball (Cora had been obliged to invite Lord Merton's odious sons,) to satisfy the other Ladies. Lord Hexham only stood up for a dance twice, when he was absolutely obliged to. Once with Lady Mary, to please his hosts, and once with Miss Lane Fox, who had been abandoned by Lord Gillingham.

The ball was actually a rare occurrence in that for once, the Gentlemen outnumbered the Ladies. And so Lord Hexham's decision to keep Edith company was looked on not as discourteous towards the other Ladies, but very honourable indeed.

Sadly, Lord and Lady Grantham had no doubt come to the conclusion that their efforts to make a match between Mary and Cousin Matthew were fruitless, and so it was Cousin Matthew who escorted Edith into dinner that evening. Lord Hexham was given to Mary. Not that Edith found anything particularly disagreeable about Cousin Matthew. Indeed, she found his presence very enjoyable. She was just rather disenchanted that even when Lord Hexham had dedicated himself to keeping her company and her parents still thought Lord Hexham was enchanted with Mary.

This was an unpleasant experience for two reasons. One, it showed Edith that very little will convince her parents that she was not completely inferior to Mary. The second was that it implied colossal stupidity on her parents' behalf.

Or at least, Edith hoped it was stupidity. A mild panic seized her, and mid-conversation with Cousin Matthew she found her eyes slid towards Lord Hexham and Mary. They were talking politely, but Lord Hexham's head was back to her, so she could not see how he felt about the conversation. She bit her lip and tried to discretely keep her eyes on them without being noticed. Lord Hexham turned back towards his plate. He was laughing! Edith felt her heart thud.

'Oh God', Edith thought desperately, 'He's laughing! Why is he laughing? Are they laughing at me? What if Mama and Papa are right and Lord Hexham is just using me?'

Her eyes flickered to her knife and fork before anxiously settling on Mary and Lord Hexham. If she were to kill herself this moment, would anyone present take offense? It would certainly be less mortifying than being forced to have Lord Hexham reveal it was her sister he loved. And to witness Mary walk down to aisle to marry him would be most distressing.

Lord Hexham looked up and beamed at her. Edith managed to return a feeble grin back. Following Edith's line of sight, Cousin Matthew leant in to gently whisper into her ear. "I have seen that look on a man's face many a times," he murmured, "And it always means he is in love,"

Edith sighed . "Men do tend to wear that look around Mary,"

Cousin Matthew turned to face Edith and raised his eyebrow. "Well, I have not yet seen Hexham look that way at Cousin Mary yet. But I do reiterate, I have often seen it on his face since his arrival," he smiled warmly, "I'm sure of it,"

Cousin Matthew's confidence in his opinions was only to increase after dinner. Lord Hexham approached Edith and pleasantly enquired as to whether it would be possible for Lady Edith to bestow him with the pleasure of this dance. Cora, who was sitting by Edith's side frowned in concern. But the dance was slow and the Doctor had advised Edith to put some weight on her foot.

And so Lord Hexham lead Edith out to the floor, giving her his arm in order to assist her walking. They took their place at the head of the dance, and waited for the music to start. Despite the pain in Edith's foot, she found herself less concerned for that and more preoccupied by the lack of conversation. The previous times they had been in each other's company had been incredibly easy and natural. Yet as they danced, Edith felt increasingly tongue tied. In fact, Lord Hexham was barely looking at her. He only seemed capable of shooting her quick, sheepish grins.

As the silence wore on, Edith grew increasingly nervous. She frantically tried to think of a interesting conversation starter, or at least a witty observation. Why was it that she could never think of anything brilliant to say when she sorely needed to, and yet when she was alone she was full of clever comments. Only for no one to be there to hear them. It was most vexing.

"So-" she began.

"How do you like the..." Lord Hexham trailed off and nodded for her to continue. Edith blushed and pleaded him to say what he wished first.

"I was just wondering if you liked this dance,"

"Very much so," Edith said, "Although I do prefer a livelier dance, such as the Scottish Reel. It is a pity I can only dance to slower measures tonight,"

"I would very much like to see you dance more," Lord Hexham said earnestly.

Edith laughed in reply. "Believe me, your Lordship, my steps are nothing to take pride in. I can skip about my bedroom with ease and preciseness well enough, but put me in a ballroom for all to see and my feet become flippers," Edith blushed lightly at having mentioned her bedroom.

Lord Hexham did not seem to mind. "I understand what you go through. I remember when I was twelve, my cousin and I were jumping our horses. My mother was at Brancaster for a visit and my Uncle Hexham told her that she should watch me. By that point I was a rather accomplished horseman. And yet the minute I felt my Mother's eyes on me I tensed in my saddle and my mount shied away from the jump three times,"

"What is your mother like?" Edith enquired politely.

Lord Hexham hesitated over the question "I don't suppose that you have much knowledge on the character of Lady Macbeth?"

"Then she must have been delighted when you inherited," Edith said without thinking, immediately regretting her words.

He chuckled. "Oh certainly, but I suppose she can excused her indiscretion. She and Cousin Peter barely ever saw each other,"

"Well that's better than Mary's reaction to our Cousin Patrick's death. He was a lieutenant in the Navy. When we received news that his ship had sunk, all Mary could do was complain about having to wear black," once again, Edith was regretting her words. She didn't want Lord Hexham to think that she was catty about Mary behind her back. She was, (as was Mary), but she didn't want him to think that.

"It's frustrating, isn't it," Lord Hexham mused, "when we see the people we love being disparaged,"

Edith thought on Mary's response to Patrick's death. The way only she and Papa seemed to see Patrick as a member of the family who tragically died young, and not Mary's ticket to becoming a Countess. Or how they had critiqued Cousin Matthew for remaining a lawyer. And only two nights ago, when Mary had called Lord Hexham deadly dull.

"It is frustrating," she agreed.

DA

The next morning the most distressing news was received. Lord Hexham's mother had taken ill. Not seriously, but Lord Hexham was anxious to see she was well cared for and immediately began to prepare for the journey back to Brancaster. It was with quiet dismay that Edith watched Lord Hexham oversee the packing of his luggage. He was ready to leave by the afternoon.

The household waited to see him off, wishing him a safe journey and his mother a speedy recovery. Lord Hexham graciously thanked Lord and Lady Grantham for their hospitality. As he approached the sisters, he took a tentative step towards Edith and pressed a small, paper parcel into her hand.

"It is a mere trinket," he whispered, "But I would be honoured if you were to wear it and remember me as you do,"

Edith murmured her thanks and undid the package. Inside the paper lay a tiny rose quartz, cut into the shape of a heart and hanging on a slim silver chain. It was nowhere near as grand or expensive as the pearls Lord Hexham had gifted her with earlier. Yet the sweet simplicity of the gift, coupled with the tender look in Lord Hexham's eyes as he nervously waited her approval made Edith want to sob.

"It's perfect," she admitted hoarsely, unable to comprehend the emotions welling within her.

Lord Hexham let a relieved smile spread across his face, before bidding the company one more farewell and boarding his carriage. Edith found herself rapidly blinking back tears as the vehicle rode off into the distance, gradually shrinking until it disappeared from sight altogether. One by one, the household returned to the house, leaving Edith to gaze into the distance. She was rather harshly dragged from her reverie by a comment from her father.

"Oh dear," he said, "Poor Edith is besotted. I do hope she won't be too disappointed. Yet it is a tale too fantastic to truly believe, even for her,"

Edith's lips thinned as she tried to prevent her father's tactless words from affecting her too greatly, no matter their sting. Cousin Matthew lingered by Edith's side and gave her a brotherly squeeze on the arm.

"Have no fear old girl," he reassured her, "I have no doubt as to where Hexham's feelings lie. In fact," Matthew whispered, "I'd wager that before long we will all be calling you Lady Hexham!" 

"To be quite honest Cousin Matthew, I think that I would be overjoyed with simply being Mrs Pelham," Edith admitted, surprising even herself.


	6. Chapter 6

The rest of the guests left two days hence. Sadly, Aunt Rosamund's household had been struck down with a rather nasty case of the flu. As a result, only half the staff were capable of fulfilling their duties. The rest were quite thoughtlessly laid up in bed. And so Edith's intended visit had to be postponed somewhat. Edith was greatly saddened by this. After having Lord Hexham so devoted to her, home-life seemed even more dreary and unfulfilling. She sunk even more into the background whilst even greater efforts were placed into getting Mary settled. Although Lord Hexham was still considered Mary's property, it was agreed that Cousin Matthew would not yet be allowed to fall in love with anyone else, just to provide Mary with a contingency plan.

Edith found herself taking a greater number of walks. She explored new routes and relished the opportunity to be from far the house. Indeed, she would often take a picnic lunch with her and be gone all day, leaving after breakfast and arriving at the dressing gong. Evenings and wet days were the worst, and she quickly grew stifled and miserable locked up inside. But even if it had been permitted, walks in the rain were not particularly pleasurable. The cold and constant sting from the rain was too distracting to lose herself in. And she could not enjoy the view as she was constantly preoccupied by trying to keep the rain from her face.

And so Edith quickly turned to the quill for consolation. She would while away the dreary grey mornings and wet afternoon jotting down the odd verse or story. This was not entirely detrimental, indeed she seemed to be honing her skills. Although it was rather dispiriting how so many of her poems were on the topic of unhappy families, there seemed to be a great deal of venting.

All in all, Edith was content with her small variety of hobbies and interests, but it was an isolating experience she was living. She spent very little time with any of her family, and neither sought the other out. However, despite barely spending five minutes with any of them, even she could not fail to hear of Robert's newest scheme.

He had just brought; at Lord Gillingham's suggestion, a very fine Phaeton which he planned to have Branson teach him to drive. A fortnight since the visit, the vehicle arrived and Robert planned; should the next day look fine, to begin lessons forthwith.

Edith had just returned from a stroll when she saw the Phaeton arrive. She had been intrigued by the handsome vehicle and enquired about it at dinner that evening. She said that if it would be convenient, she would be delighted to have a chance to take a ride. At this, Lady Grantham noted that Lord Grantham would be monopolising the carriage for his lessons. Edith tactfully said that she would be perfectly willing to ride along and watch.

She turned to address Robert. "I would not be a distraction Sir," she assured him, "I promise to be quiet and to not intrude upon your lessons,"

Robert had been thinking of these lessons for quite some time and in his mind he was already quite the natural. He was rather pleased with the thought of having an admiring audience to watch him. It is always pleasurable for a man to be complimented and flattered by a woman he loved and respected. But Edith would do.

The plan suiting all involved, (except possibly for Branson, whose wishes were not heard nor wanted), it was arranged for Lord Grantham and Lady Edith to meet in the courtyard at nine. In her eagerness, Edith promptly arrived at the allotted time, dressed in her old coat, scarf and plainest bonnet. Robert arrived shortly after. Branson assisted Edith into her seat and Robert mounted the front, ready and waiting to begin and fully expecting to be quite the proficient.

By the end of the lesson, Robert swore to never set foot inside that ghastly thing again. It had not gone well. Lord Grantham was too good hearted as to blame Branson's teachings, instead claiming that only a genius could master such a difficult contraption. And, honest as he was, he recognised he was not such a man. The lesson had been something of a waste of time.

That is, except for Edith. She did not quite think herself a genius, but having watched Branson instruct her Papa and understanding what he was asking, she could not help but quite believe that she may prove adept at learning to ride the "Monstrous creature!" as Robert had put it. She could never quite handle riding a horse, yet part of her suspected that if given the opportunity, she would be able to make the horses and Phaeton do exactly as she told.

Edith's hand itched to take her place on the front seat and be proved right, but thought better than asking for lessons of her own with her father in such a distemper. She bided her time and waited for a slightly more opportune moment to broach the subject.

The opportunity presented itself sooner than expected. That night they had Lord Merton over for dinner, and he and Papa engaged in a rather high stakes game of cards. Lord Grantham was usually about as good at cards as he was riding a Phaeton, and though I have yet to discover Lord Merton's Phaeton driving skills, he proved himself to be a very poor card player indeed. But neither Gentlemen had many opportunities to be with other men, and so they relished each other's company and the game lasted long into the night. By the end, the pot had accumulated to a very large sum and Robert was victor.

Edith had seen this and; stifling her yawns, stayed up until the end. With Papa in such high spirits, she felt this would be the best moment to put forward her request. He had been surprised, for sure, but in slightly slurred speech, gave his approval. On the condition her mother had no objections. That easily obtained, Edith went to bed that night aflutter with nerves.

The lessons proved a success. Edith found that although by no means an instant professional, she understood what Branson was asking of her and how to achieve it. Even when she made mistakes, she knew exactly what they were and how to correct them. She soon proved herself to be rather adept at riding the Phaeton.

And she _loved_ it!

When riding a horse, she was usually too timid to ride faster than a trot. But on a Phaeton she soon came to the conclusion that the faster, the better. Poor Branson was forced to cling for dear life as a completely inexperienced driver drove him about at break neck speed. But after a few lessons, he became more confident in the Lady Edith's abilities and looked to the lessons with less dread.

Riding put Edith in great spirits, and Branson found himself quite happy in her company. In return, Edith was pleased to have someone to talk to. As time wore on, Edith grew more comfortable in his presence and began to ask him questions about his childhood in Ireland.

"Where was it you grew up again?" she asked one day as the horses trotted along.

"A small house in Dublin, milady. We only had about three rooms,"

"Golly! And did you say you had three brothers and four sisters?"

"That's right my Lady. We also had an uncle and two cousins live with us,"

"Crikey!" Edith exclaimed, trying to imagine living with so many people in such a small space. Downton as a whole was still very often too small to share with Mary.

"I must say, the coachman's cottage is something of a castle in comparison. Though I do miss my family,"

"Have you ever thought of starting a family of your own? Do you not have a sweetheart?"

Branson chose not to reply. Instead he simply noted that if she wanted a gallop, they were coming up to a clearing that would be perfect. They sped along, the wind stinging their cheeks prink and Edith's bonnet nearly flying off. Beaming, Edith slowed the horses to a trot then a walk as they reached the edge of the clearing.

Upon returning to the courtyard, Branson turned to Edith and smiled at her warmly. Eyes sparkling and face bright from exertion he said "Excellent Milady! Carry on at this rate and I shall be forced to find an alternate source of employment," and then, throwing propriety out the window he whispered into her ear, "And I daresay Lord Hexham would be very impressed as well,"

Edith blushed, and lay a gentle hand at the base of her neck, where her rose quartz necklace lay safely tucked away beneath her scarf.

DA

Apart from Lady Edith learning to drive a Phaeton, very little of consequence happened over the next few weeks. The only occasion that held any significance Edith had no knowledge of. Nor did she have any idea of the impact it would have on her life.

It began with an impromptu invitation for Cousin Matthew and Cousin Isobel to join them for dinner. Below stairs, Mrs Patmore was grumbling about the added work. As she was quite entitled to do. As was Miss O'Brien, her Ladyship's Lady's Maid, which she was not entitled to do. This was on account of the fact that the extra dinner guests did not bring anymore work her way. Therefore, it is entirely possible that O'Brien as grumbling for the sake of grumbling, which may have been forgivable if it weren't for the fact this was a regular occurrence. Miss O'Brien was never happy unless she had something to miserable about. To be perfectly content and happy caused her great distress.

The fact she had no need for concern was helpfully pointed out by Mr Bates, his Lordship's valet. At this, O'Brien turned her complaints to her favourite topic, Mr Matthew. She found it quite galling to be expected to bow and scrape to a mere Doctor's son, and resented the fact he would one day be Master of the house. This was a topic she never exhausted herself on, and was rarely met with any opposition, provided Mrs Hughes was not present. The rest of the staff had given up on silencing O'Brien, and Mr Carson felt no need to. After all, he privately agreed with her and felt quite appalled at the thought of his precious Lady Mary being thrown into the arms of a Solicitor.

Someone who did not agree was Lady Grantham. She had an issue with the menu that was a matter of great import and she had condescended to go down to the kitchen in order to talk to Mrs Patmore. She arrived just in time to over hear O'Brien referring to Cousin Matthew as a "Snot nosed, second rate Lawyer who had a better chance of becoming a true Lord of the Manor than a rabbit has of overthrowing the monarchy,"

Needless to say, Lady Grantham was not pleased. She gave O'Brien a very stern ticking off, in front of the rest of the servants. She coldly reminded O'Brien of her place in her household and that she had the good fortune to chose to work in her service; unlike some, and that she was free to leave whenever she wished. O'Brien initially tried to defend herself, claiming that her Ladyship had misheard and did not understand what she was saying. Of course, when asked what she had meant to say, she remained quiet.

For the rest of her scolding, O'Brien sat without a word, her face growing paler and paler and lips thinning dangerously. Once Lady Grantham had finished her tirade, she swept out grandly, leaving O'Brien in silence. She spat in disgust.

"Fancy her speaking to me like that!" She hissed, "When she is barely any better than that Mr Matthew,"

"Her father was in trade," Thomas added quietly, "And her Grandfather was a clerk,"

"See? She is nothing but a jumped up little-"

"Enough!" Carson snapped, he did not protest against her criticisms of Mr Matthew, but he could not abide a cruel word against her Ladyship.

O'Brien wisely decided to shut her mouth. Instead she stared down at her work basket with pursed lips, eyes stinging.

That evening, as she prepared for dinner, Lady Grantham decided to broach the topic of the quarrel with Miss O'Brien. Glancing at O'Brien's reflection in the mirror, she said "I do hope that you are not offended with my sharp words earlier? I just simply cannot allow my Cousin to be talked of with such malice behind his back,"

"Of course not your Ladyship," O'Brien responded. She gently but firmly ran a comb through her Ladyship's hair, carefully avoiding tugging at her or getting the comb caught in knots.

Lady Grantham rubbed her palms with some hand cream and allowed herself a pleasant, if somewhat cold smile. "Good," she said, turning to face O'Brien, "Then we are friends again,"

O'Brien remained staring at her Ladyship's hair, methodically running the comb through. "Of course your Ladyship," she replied.


	7. Chapter 7

A week had passed since O'Brien's disgrace when Lady Grantham received a letter from Lord Hexham. Both she and Robert were beginning to feel rather concerned over the lack progress between Lord Hexham and Mary, and so the news that Lord Hexham would be down in Yorkshire for about a month, and he would be glad for an opportunity to stay at Downton was met with enthusiasm.

The next few weeks were spent in agony for Edith. Both excitement at the thought of seeing him again, and fear that on his arrival she would discover his affection for her had been entirely imagined filled her days and kept her from sleeping at night. She found herself examining her reflection in every shined surface, and checking the contents of her wardrobe, desperate to banish any frumpiness.

Sleep cruelly evaded her the night before his arrival. Her nerves leaped inside her, and half asleep, she could not even sort out her fears in her mind. She simply lay in a fretful lump. Finally, sunlight cracked and Edith dragged herself from her bed. She sat with a bump at her vanity and peered through bleary eyes at the mirror. The horrific sight that met her dragged her from her sleepy haze. Her eyes were red and had black smudges underneath, like fingerprints. Her hair, which at it's best looked gold and vibrant, was dull and mousy.

Thankfully, Anna had her dressed and looking somewhat appealing in a short time. Anna then departed to tend to Lady Sybil, leaving Edith to stare pensively at her reflection. She was soon joined by Mary, who entered her bedroom under the pretence of finding a necklace. Edith watched as Mary listlessly wandered around the room, looking carelessly for the lost bauble. She paused in her tracks and looked at Edith, her face unreadable.

"Have you seen it?" she asked. When Edith replied negative, Mary waltzed towards her and leaned over Edith's shoulder. Their reflections were side by side. Edith could not help but take note of Mary's cold, aristocratic features and dark, flashing eyes, in comparison to her own unimpressive ones. Mary's thick, glossy hair against her limp, mousy locks. Her full lips, perfect nose and arched eyebrows. Edith clutched the side of her chair and stiffened her back in order to prevent herself from shrinking into her seat. Mary hovered for a moment.

"A pity," she murmured into Edith's ear, before leaving silently.

All through breakfast, Edith barely said a word and ate not a morsel. She merely stirred the food around her plate for five minutes, before claiming herself to be quite full. She was then met with a dilemma. She had no wish to miss Lord Hexham's arrival, and yet in her nervy state she longed to go on a walk and rid herself of all her jitters. She settled the matter by going on a short stroll to the folly and back. By the time she had returned to the house, she only had short few minutes to change into her afternoon dress.

The walk had thankfully improved her looks, her eyes were bright and cheeks flushed from the exercise. She also had more of an appetite and ate heartily, relishing the cold salad and gala pie. Nerves thus subdued, Edith found herself looking forward to Lord Hexham's arrival with renewed excitement. The man in question arrived shortly after lunch. He politely declined their offer of food and reassured them that he was perfectly willing to wait until tea. They then adjourned to the Library to allow Lord Hexham a chance to recover from the journey.

Edith positioned herself on the couch to soon be joined by Lord Hexham. Although initially planning to begin their conversation with the usual pleasantries, he could not help exclaiming in delight that Edith was wearing the necklace he gave her. Edith lay a surprised hand on the base of her neck. She had worn it so often, it had become one with her skin.

"I am most fond of it," she admitted, blushing slightly, "I rarely go a day without wearing it,"

Mary, who had just entered the room and had not known how Edith had acquired the necklace cut in "Oh, Edith wears that little trinket everywhere. Even in the evenings and in the Phaeton, despite it being quite inappropriate,"

Ignoring Lady Mary's dismissal of his gift to Lady Edith as a 'little trinket', he turned back to Edith and asked her if she often rode in the Phaeton.

"Indeed, every day. I am taking lessons in fact," Edith admitted proudly.

"How marvellous," Lord Hexham remarked with undisguised regard in his eyes, "For how long have you been learning?"

"For about two weeks," she replied, "Branson; our driver, tells me that I am nearly ready for the streets of London,"

"That's not what Branson has told me," Lord Grantham interrupted, seating himself opposite the pair, "From what I gathered, should you drive down London streets the market stalls will be knocked down and nothing but chaos and devastation will be left in your wake,"

Edith blushed and stared at her hands. "I do rather enjoy racing along, far more exciting," she said eventually.

Lord Hexham laughed congenially, "In that case, perhaps London streets shall be too confining for you,"

Edith beamed. "I shall remain in the countryside for the time being then," she assured him.

"Will you be riding out tomorrow Edith?" Cousin Matthew; who had joined the family to see Lord Hexham, asked. When Edith said that she did indeed plan to do so, Cousin Matthew suggested Lord Hexham join her, "I know he is very fond of riding in Phaetons,"

Lord Hexham had never rode in a Phaeton in his entire life, but was not about to say that. Instead he quickly agreed that he was most eager to join Lady Edith for a ride.

"I would not recommend it," Robert chuckled, "Dear Edith will have you in a ditch should you let her drive you out,"

"I know Mary is anxious for a ride," Cora put in, "Perhaps we should have Branson drive you both out tomorrow after lunch,"

"Oh that is not possible!" Sybil cried out, "Branson is taking me in the Barouche box tomorrow to the Church. It is my turn to do the flowers,"

"Well if Mary is anxious for a ride I am perfectly willing to take both her and Lord Hexham out myself," Edith offered innocently.

For some reason, Mary was less than eager. Lord Hexham, however, was entirely game.

DA

The outing started well enough. The weather was fine and the late summer sun was bright, placing both members of the party in a jovial mood. Edith decided to take a drive along the bank. There was a narrow path wedged between a pretty woodland and a clear, shining lake, which ran into a large opening that was a rare place for a gallop. The couple happily trotted along, chatting brightly and taking pleasure in the sun.

"How fortunate the weather has turned out be so grand," Lord Hexham remarked lightly, his eyes latching onto a loose curl that escaped from Edith's bonnet. Seeing that it was distracting her, he leant across and tucked it back without thinking. Both blushed, and averted their gaze. He turned towards the woodlands and became seemingly fascinated with the trees.

Edith, meanwhile, peered over the lake, watching as the ducks paddled along. Her hands loosened on the reins and she shot Lord Hexham a quick, friendly smile, who smiled back. There was not much room on the front of the Phaeton, and so the couple was forced to sit rather close together. Edith could not help noticing how their arms seemed to brush against each other whenever the hit a bump in the road. However, one particularly large jolt not only brushed the two against each other, but threw Edith from her seat altogether and straight into the lake! Edith tried to splash desperately to stay afloat, but the sudden cold seized her entirely.

Lord Hexham did not even wait for the horses to stop before he ripped of his coat and dived in after her. Having learnt to swim in the moat at Brancaster, he was far more capable of staying afloat, and wrapped his arms around Edith's body and dragged her to shore. Upon reaching the lane, Lord Hexham placed his hands on Edith's waist and pushed her up, before clambering up after her. He lay a gentle hand on Edith's back as she choked and sobbed, giving her an opportunity to regain her breath.

He then lifted her up and carried her back to the Phaeton, where the horses were waiting obediently. As he carried her, Edith noted that the first time they were alone together she got wet. The next time he carried her. And now she was wet and he was carrying her. _'Must be nature's course,'_ she supposed.

Hexham then draped his discarded coat around her shoulders and pulled out a flagon of whisky from within, which he entreated her to drink. Having regained some composure, she gave him a watery smile and announced herself to be quite recovered. She then took up the whip and they trotted back to the house. By the time they had returned to the house, both were regarding the entire mishap as something of a joke, and were laughing brightly.

The Dowager Countess, who had just arrived for tea, was not laughing. Lord and Lady Grantham stepped out to welcome them both and regarded them with a great deal of surprise. Having heard the story, Cora went to bustle Edith inside and to her bedroom, whilst Robert thanked Lord Hexham for his assistance.

As Edith passed Violet, Violet took her arm and whispered into her ear "Do be careful my dear, or some will begin to think that you are not quite virtuous,"


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Sorry

Having washed and changed, Edith felt recovered from her ordeal by dinner, where she was once again sat by Cousin Matthew and far from Lord Hexham, who was chained to Mary. After dinner, Edith found herself being intercepted by her mother or Granny whenever he attempted to converse with Lord Hexham. In comparison, they seemed to do everything possible to push Mary towards him.

With nothing to do, she began to peruse a discarded ladies magazine. She immediately turned to the poetry and story section. Pieces of fiction sent in for a sum of four shillings and the honour of having your name in print. Edith noted the address for which to send submissions to and committed it to memory. It would be grand to be a published author or poet, although her name certainly could not be printed. It would be quite unsuitable, especially when taking into account the subject of many of her works.

She also kept one eye on the couple all evening, waiting for a chance to engage him in conversation. At one point, a feather perched in Mary's hair came loose and she excused herself to attend to it. Edith was just about to join him, when Cora appeared at Edith's side and dragged her off to make a four at Bridge with Granny and Sybil. As she sat with them, Cora politely enquired as to what Sybil planned to do with herself.

"I think that I shall go for a ride after breakfast," Sybil said lightly.

"And you, Edith dear?" Cora asked.

Edith replied that she was not quite sure, though her eyes slid over towards Lord Hexham.

"Only I was just wondering," Cora said in a remarkably light voice, "that it might be nice if we were to call on Granny for tea, if you would have us Mama,"

"Oh yes dear, that sounds perfectly splendid," Violet agreed.

"And I would like you to go to Ripon with me in the morning Edith," Cora added, "To find a new bonnet. One to replace the one you ruined today,"

Her time thus monopolised, Edith conceded to their wishes without a voicing a word of protest, although there many in her mind. The trip to Ripon passed swimmingly enough, albeit with the sense that something was going unsaid. Edith's hunch that Mama was not saying something was proven to be true at tea with Granny.

Having exchanged greetings and kisses; and tea served, Violet cut straight to the point.

"Now, Edith dear. I feel we must discuss your dalliance with Lord Hexham,"

Edith blushed, "I am sorry for the event yesterday. I assure you that nothing untoward happened, so you need not worry about me losing my virtue,"

"It is not your loss of virtue that concerns us, my dear. We fear you may very much be in danger of losing your heart,"

"My heart?" Edith repeated.

Cora lay down her cup and placed a hand upon Edith's. "Sweeting, Lord Hexham has been most courteous towards you. But it will not do for you to read so much into it. In all probability, Lord Hexham and Mary will soon be engaged and when the time comes, I do not wish for you to feel much saddened by the event,"

Edith spoke in a harsh, clipped voice that betrayed her desire to sound calm, "And what makes you so certain that Lord Hexham holds any interest in Mary?"

"Mary is sure of there being an attraction," Cora told her calmly.

"Are you sure that Mary is not lying? I think she knows as well as I that Lord Hexham holds no affection for her, and she is simply trying to save face,"

"Edith," Violet said in a reproachful voice, "Such jealousy does not suit you,"

"If you think that I am jealous in regards towards Lord Hexham's feelings for Mary, then your are quite wrong, for I assure he has none," at this, Edith stood up and glared down at the two, "But if you think I am jealous that you clearly care for Mary more than me, so much that you wish me to swear off Lord Hexham in Mary's favour then how can I fail not to be?"

"Edith!" Cora cried, "Stop putting on such an exhibition and listen to me,"

Edith did as she was bid, and obediently sunk back into her chair.

"Mary was born to be a great lady Edith," Cora continued calmly, "That is her role, and she has been preparing for it ever since childhood. I know there is a coldness between you two, but surely you do not wish to deprive your sister of her birth right,"

"Birth right," Edith repeated numbly, "Lord Hexham is not Mary's birthright! And he is most certainlt not a pawn tht can be pushed around to give Mary a title. Nor is Cousin Matthew," Edith's fists clenched in her skirts and her voice shook, "And neither am I. I am your _daughter_ ,"

"I am aware of that Edith,"

"Are you?" Edith barked incredulously, "For you seem quite cocntent for me to give up a great match and spend my life as a spinster,"

"There is time for you Edith," Cora reassured her.

"This is my time Mama. Please don't make me give Lord Hexham up," she pleaded "I want no other man but him,"

"You are certainly in too much of an ill humour to be sensible," Violet said sternly, "We will discuss this another time. Have some cake,"

Edith had no wish to stay and eat cake, instead she took the cake in a napkin and stormed out. She could not deny that she felt hurt. Not only did her family seem incapable of believing that a man such as Lord Hexham could ever have an interest in her, they seemed determined to make her feel the same. And worst of all, to some extent they had.

DA

Edith awoke the next morning the find her mother already up and in conference with Mary. They sat in the Drawing Room, furtively discussing a matter that was clearly of great import. She curiously poked her head into the breakfast room and the billiards room, wondering where Lord Hexham had gotten to. Unable to find him she entered the drawing room to quiz Mama and Mary on his whereabouts.

"Mama, where are the others?"

Mary snapped up her head in annoyance, "Not now Edith," she hissed.

Edith had decided that when it came to Mary, the best thing to do would be to pretend she was a fly. It's buzzing was aggravating, but unimportant and not something she was required to pay any attention to whatsoever. She repeated her question, staring over Mary's head.

Cora turned to face Edith. There was an oddly pitying expression on her face. Edith tried to put no stock by this, but she felt the familiar stirring of nerves in her belly. Keeping her face firmly set, Edith waited for Cora's answer.

"Your Papa has gone to call on some tenants, and Lord Hexham left last night,"

"What?" Edith asked quickly, "Why did he leave, was something wrong?"

"His mother has been taken quite severely ill-"

"Oh no," Edith gasped and sunk down into the nearest chair, "I trust it is not too severe,"

"Edith," Cora told her gently, "Before he left, he asked O'Brien to pass on a message for him,"

"What did the message say?" Edith asked, quite dreading Cora's answer.

"Mary was the first down, before O'Brien came to attend to me, and so she was the first to receive the message," at this, Cora turned to face Mary, who straightened her back and looked at Edith haughtily, rather like a cat eyeing a mouse so scrawny and pathetic that it was barely worth her time tormenting. Not that it stopped her from doing so.

"O'Brien informed me that Lord Hexham passed along his apologies for he must attend to his mother at once. And," Mary said slowly, in a voice that suggested the words she was saying tasted like a particularly peculiar and exotic dish, slowly savouring each syllable "That he wished me to know of his most sincere admiration for me, and to accept this small token of his esteem," having said this, Mary produced a ring.

The white gold metal was highly polished and shone brightly, and in it's centre sat a glorious Burmese Ruby. Round and smooth, it looked rather similar to a drop of blood.

"Oh," was all Edith managed to say. Although a part of her screamed to leave and preserve her dignity, every other part, from her hair to the tip of her toes had to be certain that this was not a mistake. "Are you quite certain Lord Hexham meant you?" she asked.

Mary exchanged and exasperated glance with Lady Grantham. "Quite certain, I assure you," Mary informed her coldly, "For I checked myself,"

It felt like a stab to the gut. Edith quietly excused herself. She stumbled from the room, gaining pace as she walked. She roughly brushed past Papa, who turned to address Cora.

"Poor thing, she must have been quite smitten. I should have a put a stop to the whole business, but I thought that even she would know that Lord Hexham could never truly form a tendre for her,"

Quite numb with shock, she returned to her chamber, whereupon she collapsed to her bed. Overwrought with emotion, she burst into large, hurt filled sobs, before dissolving into tears. She wailed and choked and gasped, not caring who might overhear. She did not care that the staff will think her woodwild, nor that her family melodramatic. She did not even mind that her family had been proved right and that she was forever destined to be a pathetic, if occasionally useful spinster at best. What grieved her to her very heart and soul, was that every warm smile and soft word Lord Hexham had sent her way was false.

To think that a man who had the appearance of such honesty and amiability, such kindness, could turn out to be such a cad! Edith dragged herself to her vanity and stared hard at her reflection.

"Stupid, foolish girl!" she berated herself, to think a man such as Lord Hexham could ever love her. She, who had been singled out at birth to be the maiden aunt. Anger rose within her. Anger at having been used. Anger at having been betrayed. Disgust at the thought of having to watch Mary walk down the aisle whilst the rest of the family beamed on, her own heartbreak neglected.

For of course she may not have heartbreak, or at least, if she insisted on being so trying as to feel such a thing, she must keep it to herself so as to not inconvenience others. She had been assigned the role of useful spinster and spinsters do not feel love. Nor should they wish to. Edith was not born to be a great Lady, nor a figure of devotion. She was to remain in the background and prove herself useful when necessary.

Well, Mama and Papa may have been proved right in that Lord Hexham could never truly love her, but she would never fulfil their expectations of her. She pulled out her quill as well as opening her portfolio, selecting some of her more accomplished poems to be sent to the magazine, in the hopes of getting them published. What's more, she did so under her own name! If her parents did not wish for her to write and publish works lamenting her state as the unloved child, then they bally well should have loved her more and not have given her cause to do so.

She then sent a second letter, informing her Aunt Rosamund of her eagerness to join her in London. Far from it that she stay at Downton and try to make herself helpful to the others, when they have not once ever shown an inclination to be helpful for her. She resolved to not stay in the damned house longer than necessary, and instead to join her aunt in London. Two unwed, lonely ladies enjoying their wealth in the shining capital. A spinster always invites pity, but a spinster who shows no dissatisfaction with her state is not quite so pathetic and unfortunate as a spinster who feels her fate keenly. Better for her to find some enjoyment in life and become a lady of pleasure.

Although, Edith knew that she would perhaps always mourn the missed opportunities afforded to her sisters. She thought it would have been a very fine thing indeed to have a husband and children. To find someone who would always love and care for her. Someone to rely on when the tides of happiness were low and support in return. For someone to be her companion, lover and friend, until her dying day.

Still, it is always better to enjoy life by making the most of the one you have, rather than wasting it by pining away for some distant dream. Even if, for a just moment, that dream had been so very beautiful.


	9. Chapter 9

Two surprises had followed Edith's decision to trespass on Aunt Rosamund's kindness. One, was that along with the letter from Aunt Rosamund telling her that she will be most welcome, was another letter from one of the Ladies Magazines she had written to. They had written to inform her that two of her submissions would be published in one of their upcoming issues.

The second surprise came in the form of Cousin Matthew. Two days after Lord Hexham's departure, he took Edith aside in order to talk privately.

"Before I say anything else Cousin Edith, I must request you allow me the opportunity to apologise for Hexham's behaviour. It was a most dishonest thing for him to do, and I could never have thought him to be so cur like! I have ceased all correspondence with him,"

Edith was flattered by Cousin Matthew's concern. It was a far cry from complete dismissal of feelings and lack of sensitivity she had received from her family since, "I am afraid you will not be able to entirely escape the acquaintance. I overheard Mary ask Miss O'Brien to send a letter to Lord Hexham regarding his attachment for her. I daresay we will be forced to witness their union very soon,"

"Well, after that happy event Lord and Lady Hexham will be gone to Northumberland, and we shall be free of them. But until then, would you allow me the honour of escorting you to London,"

"What, you wish to go to Aunt Rosamund's with me?" she asked in surprise.

"Do you think I will be welcome?"

"Of course! Most welcome. I'm just rather surprised that you should wish to leave Downton so abruptly,"

Matthew's eyes drifted over towards Mary, who was sat by the window, languidly gazing outside. On her ring finger, the Burmese Ruby glinted in the sunlight. He regarded her sadly for a short moment, before sighing.

"There's nothing left for me at Downton now,"

DA

A change of scenery is always pleasant when one is feeling low. Upon reaching London, Edith rather felt as though she had torn off a particularly tight and itchy dress, and her skin was feeling soft cotton for the first time. Aunt Rosamund welcomed both Edith and Cousin Matthew with a great deal of pleasure and affection. The widowed and childless aunt was particularly pleased to see her favourite niece, and Edith rather suspected that Aunt Rosamund had heard of the situation with Lord Hexham, for she saw a great deal of sympathy in her Aunt's eyes. She shared the same look Cousin Matthew had worn. Pity, but in a way that suggested outrage and mortification on her behalf, rather than a look that said "Poor dear, to think she truly thought Lord Hexham had a genuine interest,".

Aunt Rosamund, delighted with the company, had planned to fill their time with amusements after amusements. She had devised dinners and balls, and planned shopping and theatre trips. Edith's rich and stylish aunt quickly had Edith's wardrobe bursting with the newest fashions. Gowns made in Paris, fans imported from Spain and shawls brought in Venice. She even managed to convince Cousin Matthew to buy a few new cravats as well as secretly discarding a custard and puce waist coat that both she and Edith felt the world could only be better of without.

The merry trio attended parties and concerts and strolls through the park, each determined to stave off any feelings of loneliness. After a while, it became noted by the ton that Mr Matthew Crawley, heir to the Earldom of Grantham, was seen often in the presence in Lady Edith Crawley, daughter to the current Earl. Caught up in the vibrancy of London and dressed fashionably, Edith cut an attractive figure and the proposed match was looked on with favour in the eyes of society. Especially as the two seemed to genuinely enjoy the other's company.

Edith's poems were published, as were several others. As she had suspected, the ones dealing with family life were the ones most readily snapped up. And, with their messages as clear as the poet's name, they raised one or two eyebrows in the ton. Both Cousin Matthew and Aunt Rosamund read her poems with a slight frown on their face, but praised Edith on her accomplishments readily, neither raising a word of protest.

Edith did not know if Mama or Papa or any of her family had seen her published works, as none of their letters (few and far in-between as they were), mentioned them. They were not the sort of periodicals her family read, although many of their peers did and it would be long until her activities were discovered. Edith was unsure as to how she felt on this. A trio of divided opinions waged war within her.

One part of her hoped that her parents never read the poems, so as to keep the peace and avoid hurting her parents. Another, darker side relished the idea of seeing Mama and Papa's face when they discovered that she had all but denounced them to the world. A third, admittedly small part; the part of her that wished for sunny days and fine friends, meekly suggested that perhaps her family would discover her poems and perhaps be impressed. Maybe even proud? The former two parts of her quickly poured scorn on this ideal, in a voice that was suspiciously close to Mary's.

Now in London, and away from her sisters, Edith's position had changed somewhat. She was the only young Lady in a fashionable household. She was relatively accomplished, and the new regard she was being shown was resulting in her growing more and more attractive, until one morning she awoke to find herself beautiful. A very fine morning that had been two.

Added to this, she was a published poet of a minor scandal, and rumours of her engagement had made her the focus of many bachelors. For although they may have disregarded her whilst she was still on the market, the suspicion that she may soon be snapped up had resulted in her having several admirers, one of two of whom may have been willing to court her seriously.

All in all, Edith was content with her London life. Until one rather stuffy night, she sought to open the window and seek the cool, night air. As she did so, she looked down on the street below and saw a carriage pull up outside a house opposite. Out of the carriage, a couple returning from a ball disembarked. First came the gentleman, who turned and assisted the following lady. Edith held up a candle and noted the soft look in the eyes of the gentleman. The care with which he helped her down from the carriage. And the way the lady lingered in his arms, for just a second. They were not a young couple, in fact they seemed to be reaching the gargantuan age of forty, yet they seemed very much like two youngsters feeling the first bloom of love.

Edith knew that the rumours about she and Cousin Matthew were all false, but with her newfound prominence and her substantial dowry, she suspected that she could be wed if she so wished. But it was no longer a good marriage she wished for, it was for someone who looked at her with the same devotion the couple on the street. The way Lord Hexham had looked at her. Even if all those tender looks had been nought but lies.

She wondered how it was that men could so easily replicate that look of tenderness, or indeed women. For she knew first hand that a woman could happily appear as those she was attached to a man, or indeed truly be so, only to cast him off when a better match offers. Poor Cousin Matthew. Oh, how it seemed they all flocked to London to fill their days with merriment and laughter, in the hopes that they could forget the loss and heartbreak they all felt so keenly.


	10. Chapter 10

Cousin Matthew was dressed for walking when he came down to breakfast. Not only dressed for walking, but also to impress Edith suspected.

"Going out?" she inquired, buttering her muffin.

"Just a quick jaunt with some friends. You would be most welcome to join us if you wish," he offered.

"I thank you, but no. I think I will stay in this morning. With whom are you out jaunting with?"

"Miss Swire," he answered promptly, before quickly returning to his paper.

"Are you planning on jilting me two?" Edith teased him gently, a smile tugging at her lips.

Cousin Matthew just grinned back, "And Miss Lane Fox and her fiance, Mr Blake,"

Edith, remembering Lord Gillingham's behaviour during the house party, had not been surprised to hear of Miss Lane Fox's change in fiance. She only hoped she found more happiness in this engagement than the last one.

Having spent two months in London, Edith was rather suspicious as to the lack of engagement between Mary and Lord Hexham. She did not try to dwell upon it too much, it was pleasant to put off fully having to come to terms with Hexham's betrayal. She just relished the opportunity to avoid the inevitable. Then, one morning a letter arrived from Downton, sent yesterday. One that would surely put an end to the engagement between Lord Hexham and Mary, or any engagement at all for that matter, for Mary or Edith. Not Sybil though. It was Sybil's engagement that reduced her sisters to almost certain sisterhood.

The letter was from her mother, informing Edith of the elopement and pleading her to return home and be of some comfort to her.

 _My dearest child,_

 _My heart grieves for the most unpleasant news I must relate to you. This morning your father and sister Mary attended breakfast, only to find that Sybil was not there. Assuming she must not yet be up, or somewhere else in the house, they thought little of it and continued their breakfast. It was then that Carson, who they was not present on their awaking, arrived. He informed then that when Anna had gone to attend on Sybil, she was no there. Her bed was also unslept in. Anne had gone straight to Mrs Hughes and questioned the other maids if any were aware of Sybil's presence. It was thereupon discovered that none had seen her last night. She had gone to bed early and requested to be allowed to go unattended._

 _With her whereabouts unknown, your father and the male staff began searches on the grounds, whilst we searched the house. A letter, previously unfound, was discovered by Mary on Sybil's dressing table. It informed us that she had fallen in love with Branson, our coachman, and has gone to_ (it is here that the writing became somewhat shaky and smudges appeared on the page,) _Gretna Green, where the two will be wed on arrival. After this message was discovered; and Branson's absence confirmed, your father immediately set off for Gretna Green. I do not know what he plans to do with them. I do know that before he went, he took his pistol._

 _My dear girl, your poor mother begs you to come home. Your father is gone, and Mama and Mary are of no comfort. I long to see you, and to hold you in my arms. I fear that one daughter is lost to me, and I loathe to have my remaining two out of sight._

 _With the deepest love,_

 _Your most affectionate Mama._

Edith's face turned pale. She tried to inform her aunt and cousin of the letter's contents, but the word jammed in her throat like a hunk of beef that had not been properly chewed. Seeing Edith's distress, Cousin Matthew gently prised the letter from her lily white hand. He managed to catch her eye, and at her nod read the letter out loud.

Stunned silence followed Cousin Matthew's reading. He waited gravely for Aunt Rosamund or Edith to speak first, but on seeing them both in such violent states of shock, he took charge.

"Lady Rosamund," he said calmly, "Would you be so good as to lend us your carriage? I should hate to be of an inconvenience to you, but I rather believe that the sooner we set off the better,"

"Of course my dear," Aunt Rosamund sad calmly, efficiently taking back control, "I will speak to the staff and have them pack your luggage forthwith. I daresay you will be ready to leave after lunch," having said this, Aunt Rosamund turned back to Edith and squeezed her hand gently. "This is an utterly terrible state of affairs my dear and I am sure you would wish to be home soon,"

Edith could not respond. She simply stared numbly at Aunt Rosamund's concerned face. Belatedly, she noticed that her hands were shaking, and a horrified voice that was not her own began to say "oh God, oh God," repeatedly. Rosamund quickly had a blanket fetched, which she tenderly wrapped round her shoulders. The sudden shiver and shakes that had engulfed her body would not cease.

"Dear Cousin, is there anything I can do for you?" Cousin Matthew pleaded, alarmed by Edith's unresponsive state, "Perhaps I can ring for some tea?"

"I think a hot brandy is more appropriate, given the circumstances," Aunt Rosamund informed him, and went to ring for one, as well as a glass for herself and Matthew. Heaven knows, they all needed one.

Still, having regained her senses, Edith quickly refused the offer. "I do not want brandy, or tea. I shall go for a walk," She abruptly stood, and headed for the door where she was waylaid by Cousin Matthew.

"Are you quite sure that is wise, dear cuz? Perhaps I should go with you?" he offered.

"No. Thank you. I wish to be quite alone at present,"

At that, Edith hastily quitted the room. Forgoing her new green pelisse or red velvet spencer, she yanked on a drab cloak and completely forgot her bonnet before rushing out of the house. The rooms seemed to be swiftly closing in on her, so that it was with a great deal of relief that she stepped into the streets and breathed in the cool air.

She took of at a brisk pace down the streets of Belgrave square, directly heading to the nearby gardens. Emotions which she could not quite place roared within her, and upon reaching Belgrave Gardens she slowed her pace somewhat, in order to gather her thoughts.

In truth, she did not quite know what to feel. In regards to Sybil and Branson, she knew enough of Sybil's character; as well as some of Branson's, to not feel too concerned on Sybil's behalf. Unless Papa made use of his pistol. Indeed, most of her feelings were for Mama and Papa, and herself.

She could not imagine the turmoil they must be feeling now, especially as there was little chance of intercepting Sybil and Branson before they reached Gretna Green. It was clear from the letter that her mother was in a great deal of distress.

That said, one particular sentence stuck in Edith's head. _"My Dearest child,"_ Since when was Edith Cora's dearest child? Now that Sybil had ruined the families name, she may have been raised in her family's esteem somewhat. Maybe. But she has never been their _"Dearest,"_. Knowing this made deciding her next course of action a difficult task. The conflicting parts of her that had waged war over her poems had once more took up their swords and banners. For she could not deny, she was tempted to respond to her mother informing her that she could not be dragged from London at this current time, and to instead seek comfort in Mary.

One part of her protested vehemently against this. It pleaded with her to consider the look on her mother's face on reading such a letter. Intriguingly, the part of her urging to send the letter pleaded the exact same thing.

So caught up in these thoughts was she, that she did not notice the young man in front of her until she walked to straight into him. Looking up in order to apologise, she found herself staring into the cold face of Lord Hexham. He coolly made his apologies, which were returned with equal indifference.

"Lord Hexham," she muttered, dropping a shallow curtsey, "Pray excuse me,"

She went to move forwards, only to halt when she heard Lord Hexham order her to "Wait!" She turned back round to see him glaring down at her. Although she saw the fury in his eyes, she was unmoved by it. For she knew full well that she had done naught to deserve it. Why, how was it that he felt entitled to look at _her_ with such distaste, when it was he who treated her feelings so callously? That said, she could not help but be conscious of her shabby appearance.

He took a few steps towards her, and regarded her with a jittery sort of anger before finally spitting out "I pray you excuse me for my lack of manners, but I must speak!"

"Oh yes?" Edith asked with an impressive raise of her eyebrow.

"Why is it," he began, "That you have not responded to one of my letters?"

Edith did not quite know how to respond to that! Unaware of Edith's shock, Lord Hexham carried on. "If you wished to end your acquaintance with me, then you could have at least written your rejection instead of ignoring me completely and leave me wallowing in hope,"

"Pardon me, _sir_ , but I believe you are quite mistaken. I have not received a single letter from you since your departure. Any letters you may have sent to Downton would immediately be forwarded to my Aunt's address in London. And yet, as you see I am quite letterless," she responded tartly.

"What? I beg your pardon, my Lady, but I assure you that I have written to you thrice weekly, sheet after sheet! And yet I have not once had any response from you. The first I heard of you in weeks was that you were to be engaged to Mr Crawley, when I heard it from some Ladies my mother made acquaintance with whilst in Bath. And fair enough, you may marry whom you please. But the least you owe me is a letter informing me of your lack of attachment to me, instead of letting me find out by hearsay!"

It was at this point, Edith suspected a lapse of communication had occurred.

"Lord Hexham," she said calmly, "Did you, or did you not inform my mother's Lady's maid on your departure to pass on your most esteemed affection for my sister Mary?"

"To be sure, I asked Miss O'Brien to pass on my affection. But it was too you, not the Lady Mary," cooling somewhat, he added "I made it quite clear that I had intended the message for you. Is it possible that Lady Grantham's Lady's maid is hard of hearing?"

Edith considered her mother's waspish Lady's maid for a moment. "Hard of hearing, no. Hard of heart, certainly. She insisted it was Mary to whom you meant your affections. We all assumed that the affection you showed me was a mere game,"

Shaking, his hands reached out to take hers, which two were trembling. "Oh my darling, did you really think me so ungentlemanly? That I could treat you so abominably ill?"

Edith shook her head, grinning ruefully. "I always thought you to be the very best of men. Only myself to be unworthy of such a man,"

From beneath his hat, Lord Hexham's face softened and broke out into a hopeful grin. "Then, does this mean that you are not engaged to your Cousin?"

On her own face, Edith felt a smile spreading and stretching out her cheeks. "No," she replied, "I am not engaged,"

Lord Hexham let out a delighted bark of laughter, and Edith's chest swelled with a disbelieving sense of pure joy.

"Then my Lady Edith, I have a request to make of you-" he began, before Edith quickly cut him off.

"My Lord, before you say anything I fear that I must inform you that my sister has caused a scandal that will no doubt be the talk of society for time to come. It has not yet reached the public's ears, but Lady Sybil has eloped with our coachman,"

"Ah," Lord Hexham paused to take this into account, before making a carless gesture with his hands as though this could dismiss the scandal entirely, "You forget my Darling, that I am the Marquess of Hexham. High pockets and high birth,"

"Pray, what is your meaning my Lord?"

"I mean that I'm rich and important. I can damned well do what I like! Be that marry a coachman's sister in law, or kiss her in full view... with her consent of course,"

Edith could not quite believe what was happening. Instead of trying to, she simply laughed and assured Lord Hexham that he had her consent. With that, he bent down and gently pulled her towards him. He brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, and she rested a hand on his shoulder, waiting for the proffered kiss. When it came, an overwhelming feeling of complete joy welled within her. Lord Hexham pulled away and rested his lips on top of her hair.

"Oh, my darling Edith," he murmured.

Edith's heart leapt at hearing her first name on his lips, and remained firm in his embrace, regardless of the scandal it would cause if they were seen. After all, Sybil had already quite destroyed their family's reputation. And let her! Who was Edith to deny her sister and Branson the happiness and comfort she felt in that moment? That feeling of complete and utter delight with the world, safely tucked away in her darling Bertie's arms.


	11. Chapter 11

"Oh my dears, how wonderful!" Aunt Rosamund exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight. Cousin Matthew strode forward and took Lord Hexham's hands in his own, shaking them enthusiastically. When the couple arrived at Rosamund's house, Cousin Matthew had been preparing to go out and find Edith for himself, as she had been gone an hour. So it was with great relief that they found Edith standing at the door. And great joy that they saw Lord Hexham standing with her. Seeing the smiles on their faces, and the fact they were (shockingly) holding hands, it did not take them long to guess that something monumental had taken place.

"Will you be accompanying us back to Downton?" Cousin Matthew asked.

"I am afraid I will be unable to come on such short notice," Lord Hexham apologised, "And it will be quite wrong of me to come unannounced,"

"Come stay with me. There's always a spare room at Crawley House," Cousin Matthew offered, "And I am sure the family will be glad of good news,"

"Edith has told you the news," Rosamund asked cautiously.

"Lady Rosamund!" Cousin Matthew hissed.

"She has," Lord Hexham assured them, "And I wish Lady Sybil and ...Mr Branson? Mr Branson every happiness,"

Edith grimaced, "I'd advise you not to say so in front of Papa,"

"I promise to be appropriately shocked and horrified in front of Lord Grantham,"

"I am not sure 'shocked and horrified' will be sufficient," Edith warned him.

"How about disgusted and wretched?" Lord Hexham suggested.

"If we put off our return for tomorrow," Cousin Matthew began, "Will that give you enough time to prepare? That way I can let mother know that you will be coming and give her time to prepare,"

"If it is no bother," Lord Hexham replied earnestly. In truth, the thought of saying goodbye to Edith so soon after being reunited with her was not to be born. And so Cousin Matthew's offer appealed to him greatly.

"Is your mother quite recovered?" Aunt Rosamund cut in, "I heard that she was quite ill,"

"Much recovered, thank you Ma'am. We have just returned from Bath, which did her a great deal of good,"

"Well in that case, it would be splendid if she can join us for dinner tonight," Aunt Rosamund explained, "Then we can announce the engagement tonight,"

"Will your mother be able to manage without you?" asked Edith, "She is welcome to come back to Downton if not,"

"That won't be necessary," Lord Hexham assured her, "She will be glad to have time for herself. I am afraid I have been rather poor company of late,"

Dinner was a success, despite the short notice. Mrs Pelham had been polite and genial, if somewhat cold and analytical. That said, she seemed perfectly approving of Edith for her son. Although Edith was uncertain as to how long this would last.

She voiced these fears in the coach to Lord Hexham on the way back to Downton. He agreed that his mother would not like the scandal, bu it was he who was marrying Edith and not her, so she had no reason for complaint.

"Are you sure that it was wise not to inform you family of my arrival?" he asked anxiously.

Edith nodded and suppressed a tight smile. "I am looking forward to seeing them struck dumb. Cousin Isobel has been sworn to secrecy and when we tell the it is sure to be a lovely surprise,"

"It certainly will not be a lovely surprise for Cousin Mary," Cousin Matthew reminded her.

Edith's eyes slid sideways for a moment, before widening innocently. "Oh, I had not thought of that,"

"Of course not," Cousin Matthew nodded, then shooting her a conspiratorial wink, "But it is too late to warn her now,"

After a short silence, Edith leaned towards him, peering at him anxiously from under her bonnet. "What do you plan to do about Mary?" she asked gently.

Cousin Matthew made an odd gesture with his hands, grimacing. "In truth I am not quite sure. I am extremely fond of Miss Swire. She manages to be engaging without playing the games Cousin Mary seems forced to resort to. And yet..." at this he trailed off helplessly.

Edith smiled kindly at him. "Whatever you do, do not keep her dangling. Nobody likes having their emotions toyed with,"

"As we all know all to well," Cousin Matthew sighed.

DA

As luck would have it, they arrived at Downton the same time as Lord Grantham. Watching her Papa disembark through the carriage window, Edith was shocked at his appearance. His skin was tired and waxy, and his face was haggard. She quickly joined him and wrapped her arms round his neck in order to bring him some comfort. He held her close, squeezing his eyes shut and rapidly blinking away tears.

"I was too late," he muttered in a broken whisper. "I rode all night but by the time I reached Gretna Green they were gone. I know not where," he broke off at seeing Lord Hexham step out behind Edith.

"Lord Hexham," he began, gently putting Edith aside, "I trust you are to see Lady Mary,"

"Actually my Lord," Lord Hexham began, only to be cut off by Lord Grantham.

"Oh be out with it," Lord Grantham sighed, "You are here to call things off with her. Go ahead and say it. I will not think poorly of you, truly I won't,"

"Well, you see your Lordship", Hexham said, trying to put it delicately, "I am not here to break things off with Lady Mary,"

"No?" Lord Grantham demanded.

"No. To be honest- your Lordship, I am afraid that an error in communication has occurred. I never intended to court Lady Mary- and I apologise if I gave you that impression, but it was with Lady Edith that my affections always lied,"

"What? Edith!" Lord Grantham asked incredulously.

"Yes my Lord. And I can assure you that I have no intention of breaking with her,"

"Edith!" Lord Grantham repeated.

"Looking back on it, I daresay I have been in love with her the moment I set eyes on her,"

There was a short silence.

 _"Edith!"_

"Yes, Lady Edith Crawley, your second daughter,"

Edith wondered if she had detected a hint of tetchiness in Lord Hexham's voice.

"You mean to say," Lord Grantham began, trying to get his head round the puzzling news, "That it is _Edith_ you wish to marry. And not Lady Mary?,"

"Yes, I intend to marry Lady Edith and no I do not, nor have I ever intended to marry Lady Mary,"

"And you are quite sure that you do not mean Lady Sybil, my youngest?"

"No my Lord. It is Lady Edith I wish to marry," Bertie smiled down at her tenderly, "It has always been Lady Edith,"


	12. Chapter 12

AN: This is the final chapter. I just want to thank everyone who has read and reviewed, it has been so great hearing from you all and I hope you enjoy.

Lady Mary had foolishly thought that nothing could shock her more than Lady Sybil's elopement. That nothing could cause her as much disgust and horror than the thought of her baby sister running away with the help. But this, seeing Edith standing there with a beatific smile on her face and Lord Hexham gazing adoringly at her, was too much. Mary felt as though a cold, clammy hand been thrust down her throat and seized her heart. Edith! Married! To Lord Hexham.

Mary knew how she should respond. That for the sake of her dignity and pride she should yawn and dismiss the news of Edith's engagement with a wave of her hand. That she should raise an eyebrow at Edith's vulgar display of love and change the subject towards the topic of her brand new riding boots. Far more interesting. She felt a cutting and sarcastic comment rising within her. One that would put Edith in her place. It was coming. Any moment now. Just as soon as she could find a way to gain control of her mouth and stop it from hanging wide open.

And yet, she couldn't. She just couldn't. Nothing came to mind. No comment or quip. Edith had won, defeated her in ways Edith was not even unaware of. How could Mary accept Cousin Matthew now? To condemn herself to a life of being outranked by Edith, her children to be outranked by Edith's.

Dragging her eyes away from Edith's aggravatingly happy face and resting them on Cousin Matthew, she saw him staring back at her. His blue eyes penetrated her own, and she quickly averted her gaze. He knew exactly what she was thinking. He knew her, he understood her. And yet he still loved her.

The rest of the family jabbered and squawked on, demanding "why's" and "how's". Cousin Matthew was still staring at her. She stood up brusquely, drawing all eyes to her. Silence fell. Shaking, she stormed from the room and slammed the door behind her. She stood in the hall for a moment, twitching in agitation. She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Cousin Matthew watching her, an unreadable expression on her face.

"Before you speak," he said swiftly, "I beg you hear me out. I do not come to ask why it is you felt that Lord Hexham had made an offer, nor do I come to plead for you decision about us,"

Mary watched as Cousin Matthew's face turned cold and hard.

"I only come to tell you this," he continued, "If you do anything, or say anything to put an end to Cousin Edith's happiness, then I can assure you. It will not be your decision to make,"

DA

Lady Mary had; surprisingly, been only at fault of having a startling lack of sensitivity. A fault that most of the Crawley family could be charged with. The whole scheme had been solely Miss O'Brien's. She had spied the growing affection between both Lady Edith and Lord Hexham, as well has Lady Mary and Mr Matthew. It was quite brilliant, really, to think how changing a single name could bring an unhappy end to two great matches. Well, that and intercepting some letters. One of which was Lady Mary's rejection of Lord Hexham's proposal, although she had not informed anyone of this fact.

Miss O'Brien had been summarily dismissed without reference, and it so it was Miss Baxter who attended Lady Edith on the morn of her wedding. Baxter was of a much more gentle temperament and a far more suitable replacement (despite that rather unfortunate stint in gaol and being dangerously close to being sent to Australia).

A light dusting of snow powdered the ground outside. Edith watched from the window as the grey flakes descended from the sky, each one dancing and swirling as though celebrating the happy union of Lord Hexham and Lady Edith.

Lord Grantham was certainly dancing for joy. Lady Sybil having eloped, Edith's engagement to one of the grandest men in Britain could not have come at a more fortuitous moment. She had swept the Crawley family up from almost certain ruin and back to it's rightful place. For the first time in her life, Edith was truly the beloved daughter. It was to be expected really.

After all, one daughter had eloped, and the second was stringing along a man for whom she felt genuine attraction for. Being a mere Countess was clearly unbearable when her despised younger sister was to be Marchioness. No wonder the middle daughter had risen in his esteem.

He had not told anyone, but Lord Grantham had read the poems. He had first heard of them on his way to Scotland, and reading the outpourings of his daughter's heart had taken the anger from him. Sybil had fled the family, and Edith had denounced them to the world. He could feel no fury. Only dismay at how he had failed his daughters, especially Edith. And when he returned empty handed, only to discover Edith had accomplished what all thought impossible, he knew that he had misjudged his daughters all along.

Sybil was willing to give up luxury for love. Edith could battle heartbreak and rise victorious. And Mary, God only knows what Mary was. He only hoped her youth gave her time to correct her faults. But Edith, Edith had done everyone proud. Her house, her family and herself. Which was why he threw aside custom and held a large and lavish wedding. One to rival Princess Charlotte's. He spent a mint on her trousseau. Not raising a single eyebrow at the silks, satins, furs and muslins that filled her wedding chests.

"Only suitable for the Marchioness of Hexham," he said.

Edith took particular delight in choosing her wedding clothes. A fine apple green silk pelisse trimmed with white fur and silver embroidery, a matching bonnet and fur muff for the ceremony and a green gown underneath to wear to the bountiful wedding feast being held at Downton after, for which hundreds of fowl, pigs and cows had laid down their lives.

He even offered to have it done by special license, though Edith insisted on marrying in the church where she was baptised.

As a result, Edith had to wait longer than she or Lord Hexham would have liked to finally marry. Not only did the wedding take time to plan, it was deemed prudent to wait until the scandal of Sybil's elopement had died down somewhat. Or at least, for Lord Grantham to stop spitting every time he merely looked at a coach. Edith insisted on having her sister at her wedding, and Lady Grantham supported her. Especially when news arrived that Mrs Branson was expecting. And despite Lord Grantham's reluctance, transport and clothes had been provided as the coupled could afford neither.

Lord Grantham had been sending Mrs Branson a small allowance, under the justification of not wanting them to turn up one day begging for money. In truth, he simply could not bear the thought of his youngest living in poverty.

Another reason for postponing the wedding was Mrs Pelham. Although initially pleased with the match, she was shocked at the scandal and threatened to cut Lord Hexham off completely should he go through with it.

"You may do as you like mother," he replied coldly, "But you will find that no one else will," and he was right, high title and high pockets indeed. Realising this; and realising breaking with Bertie will result in only herself losing the prestige of being the mother of a wealthy Marquess, she put aside her morals. The scandal would not rob Lord Hexham of his wealth nor title. As a result she not only withdrew her threat but also resolved to welcome Edith into the family with open arms. Even if for no other reason than that she had read Edith's poems. Edith having assured her that she meant to continue writing, she felt it prudent to be nothing but devoted to her daughter in law.

The final reason for holding off the wedding was Lady Grantham. Having one daughter flee the nest, she felt that losing Edith so soon after insupportable. And so she kept Edith with her a bit longer, under the pretext of preparing Edith for her role of being a Great Lady. Admittedly, this was necessary as Edith's education in that respect had been sorely lacking.

But finally, the day arrived. And so it was with great pride that Robert sat by Edith's side in the open topped carriage. As the snow descended, Edith was glad of her fur trimmed muff and wedding clothes. A carriage with a roof would have been more practical, but Robert was eager to show his glowing daughter to the world. Her wedding clothes cost a fortune, as did the carriage and decorations, but Lord Grantham didn't mind. He was determined for all eyes to be on the future Marchioness (and not the pregnant coachman's wife waiting in the church).

Despite the cold, villagers turned out by the dozen to cheer the bride to the church. Edith beamed the entire journey. Waving and laughing with sheer delight. A Lady should probably attend her wedding with more decorum and grace, but Edith was never particularly graceful.

In the Church, the congregation stood and turned to watch the bride enter. The doors swung open to see Lady Edith and her father haloed by snow and sun. Soft sighs filled the church. At the altar stood her groom, smiling broadly. Edith resisted the urge to her run into his arms, but instead slowly glided down the aisle. She focused on keeping her steps measured, and not skipping. Finally reaching the altar, she passed her muff to Mrs Branson and turned to face Lord Grantham. He took her shaking hands in his own and gave them a gentle squeeze.

"Good morning," she whispered quietly.

"Good morning," he replied.

As the service began, many eyes filled with tears. Lord Grantham's, Lady Grantham's, Lady Mary's (although for a slightly different reason). Lady Rosamund and Cousin Matthew exchanged proud smiles, and Mrs Branson leaned lightly against her husband's chest. She smiled as Branson wrapped his arms round her curved belly, rubbing it gently.

Neither Edith nor Lord Hexham could keep their voices steady as they repeated their vows. Edith spoke quietly, desperately trying to suppress the urge to laugh. She was too happy, too delighted to simply stay still and say her vows. She longed to jump and laugh and fling herself into Bertie's arms. Finally, they said their 'I do's' and they were permitted to kiss. In front of the congregation, the kiss had to be more chaste than Edith would have liked. But she still found great pleasure in it.

Breaking away, Bertie leaned down to whisper into her ear "I love you so very much," before kissing her hand and facing the congregation. The couple sailed down the aisle amidst a sea of congratulations and well wishes. He stopped to kiss her once more at the Church door. Edith looked around curiously for the carriage, until Bertie pointed out to her a shining new phaeton.

"My wedding gift to you," he explained. He then lifted her into the driver's seat and, quite willingly, handed her the reins.


	13. Epilogue

This poem was not for publication. That would be low. It was probably not even worthy of publication, rushed and flawed as it was. But it demanded to be written. The words itched beneath her fingernails the minute she left Downton. It had been a short trip, but longer than some of the other's. Mama's increasingly frail state demanded Edith's presence at Downton for longer periods of time.

It was not a particularly nice poem. Indeed, it suggested some rather nasty sentiments. But better those feelings be expressed in a way that caused no harm, and she simply had to admit them. She could not deny that surge of triumph she felt when she saw Mary peer at her reflection. Frowning, then quickly unwrinkling her brow when she realised what she was doing, lest the lines on her forehead become deeper. Plucking at those grey hairs and battling every sign of aging.

Beauty had been so important to Edith when she was young. Now here was proof that beauty fades. And what it leaves behind is not always pleasant. Beauty was deserting Mary and left her a bird without wings, whereas Edith had learned to soar alone.

 _Sisters_

 _Two things unite you now,_

 _Blood and lines,_

 _Sisters linked through family,_

 _And the passing of time._

 _You who is so beautiful,_

 _Born so fair of face,_

 _How keenly you will feel,_

 _The loss of Beauty's grace._

 _Dark good looks have carved you,_

 _A gentle way through life,_

 _A pretty smile has spared you,_

 _A normal person's strife._

 _But now your skin starts to sag,_

 _Your hair begins to thin,_

 _And though old age has claimed you both,_

 _I soundly say she wins._

 _All your life excuses have been made,_

 _You've never had to grow,_

 _But she born plain and pitiful,_

 _Has a strength you'll never know._

There, it was written. Now it was time to move on.


End file.
